He dreamt of floating in the dark expanse, with sprinkles of something that looked like shining powders all around. They glowed, some dim, and some bright, looking like stars inside a spacious galaxy.
And then he realized that he was one of the powders, a speck of little light. Only, he was neither shining dimly nor brightly. He was broken. There were cracks all over his abstract form, like porcelain smacked into the ground.
While he was wondering what this was, a shining orb floated in front of him. For some reason, though, it felt familiar. No, not familiar, it felt like a mirror. Like they were the same things—like they were supposed to be the same thing, the same entity. He reached out to the orb with his consciousness, and suddenly the orb flew towards him, and sunk itself into his existence.
Somewhere among the darkness, watchful eyes looked upon him; keenly, sadly, eagerly.
* * *
It took a while for me to realize where I was.
The ceiling was not only unfamiliar, but also way more lavish than I used to. There were delicate carvings of sophisticated craftmanship adorned the ceiling. As I blinked my eyes to consciousness, the softness of the mattress and pillow propping my body came to my senses.
I had never slept in a place this comfortable before, whether it was this life or the one before.
My immediate response to this comfort was to roll my body in delight, wondering where I was and whether or not I can prolong my stay. There was a very nice, very warm, very comfortable blanket that I dove into, as I tried to remember how and why I was there.
Except that I didn't really have to think about it.
Why? Because the answer was there on the bed, right before me, as my rolled body crashed into it.
Into him.
A tall, solid, perfectly sculpted body that was seemingly carved with delicate precision and high attention to detail. Dark blue hair, framing a face that was enough to make people lost in thought. It kind of distracted people from the pair of midnight-colored horns jutted out from that blue locks, which complement the deep blue skin of the man, adorned with tattoo-like lines and patterns crisscrossing his entire body in a darker shade of blue.
I did not exaggerate when I said my mind was short-circuited. I should probably jump out of the bed at this point, but I just froze. My mind went haywire as to why and how I could end up in the same bed with this man.
Or shall I say, this demon?
Would it be racist to say that?
Still in my frozen state, I could only helplessly watch the dark eyelashes flutter open, and the silvery iris against black sclera, like a pair of moonlight on the night sky, greeted my vision. They gazed at me, who could only blink as my mind churned out the hazy memory bank.
This was why you should not get drunk, kids, no matter how upset and stressed you were. Especially if you never drink before.
The man—the demon—rose and hovered at me, staring at what I could only infer as scrutinizing gaze. Of course, he could only look at my peeking head, but the silver eyes were piercing enough I didn't think I could survive if he looked at the rest of me.
If I wasn't stunned enough by this whole situation, then that sharp jaw and cheekbone would freeze me just the same. Man, he was handsome, even if he looked like he could and might kill me any second. It really didn't help that he reminded me of that one hot fourth-year resident I was crushing on for a while.
Wait...that girl author did not model this man off of the doctor, right?
Well, I guessed it was a good thing that I was drunk, because I didn't think I could function properly if I was sober last night, seeing someone with that face asking me for...
What was he asking me again?
"Hmm, you look better," damn, even the voice felt similar. It might be just my mind playing a trick, though. But did you have to be so cruel, girl?
After all, looking at my appearance that wasn't so different from how I looked in my previous life, meaning that the author used me as the dying priest material—even down to the pain my body was feeling.
Not cool, girl, not cool.
...wait. My eyes flickered, and I got up abruptly, sitting on the bed. I looked down at my body—which wore something that didn't belong to me, but that wasn't the point. I moved my hand, my fingers, and patted my chest and abdomen.
There was no pain.
For the first time since I woke up in this world...no, for the first time since forever, there was no pain in my body.
No creaking bones, no aching joint, no sharp piercing sensation in my chest...
A cold hand tilted my chin, and a thumb brushed my cheek. "Why are you crying?"
"...huh?" I looked at the man, who tilted his head in confusion. But I couldn't say anything, just realizing that tears were dripping down my cheek.
"Why, are you still in pain?" a frown, and I flinched, shuffling away from the hand while gathering the blanket around me, as if it could somehow protect me from this man.
Not that he was bad or anything.
"No," I answered shortly, my brain still trying to remember whatever events led to this.
"Oh, good," the man leaned back on the bed again, using his elbow to prop his head while he looked at me. "Otherwise I got threw up on for nothing,"
...what?
Did he just say I...threw up on him?
I blinked, and mentally gasped. Shit. The memory was coming back to me now, thanks to his kind reminder.
———
Moonlight and black wings—that was my last vision before a surge of magic enveloped me, and I had to close my eyes. Even if I didn't, all I could see was the chest of the man that took me away. When I opened my eyes, there was no palace, no rooftop, no cold winter air that aggravate the pain in my body.
The man slowly released me from his hold, and I stepped back, stumbling in my drunk state. Chuckling, he waved his hand and I found myself falling back into a plush sofa instead of the floor.
Cool.
I shook my head to try to clear my mind. Even without looking around, I knew I was in some kind of castle. It was decorated with lavish ornaments that would put the kingdom to shame. We were in the middle of the room, which immediately turned into a sitting area as he dragged other chairs and tables around my sofa.
Right, I was following a total stranger that said he'd brought me to the Demon Lord of Avarice. Surely, the envoy of the demon lord should at least be capable of that much.
But wouldn't he get into trouble for moving up the furniture as he wish?
Or so I thought, before I saw him sitting down casually on the chair in front of me; leg crossed, an arm slung on the backrest. And he just stared at me, silently, with a subtle smile on his face.
Oh.
I was drunk, but I wasn't stupid.
"I don't think I'm that important for a Demon Lord to personally come and fetch me," one benefit of being drunk was the possibility of becoming more brazen.
Right, it was weird that a mere envoy could bypass the anti-demon barrier in the Capital and the palace. If an envoy could do that, then the kingdom should have already fallen to the demon's army. Which meant that the envoy wasn't actually an envoy, but a much more powerful being.
Also, he mentioned that I would be meeting the Demon Lord. There was no way a servant would be so brazen as to sit casually when the Lord could be coming anytime soon.
Unless, of course, the Demon Lord was already here.
The subtle smile stretched wider, and the glamour was fading with a ripple. I watched in fascination as dark horns seemingly grew from the top of his forehead. The pale skin turned darker until it was shimmering in deep blue color, and dark lines formed patterns along the transformed skin.
Honestly, I had no knowledge about demons in this world, because even the priest here only had hearsay. It wasn't like they were actively trying to conquer the whole world. In the whole first volume, the only demon lord to appear was the Demon Lord of Wrath, and he was depicted as a red-skinned, hulking giant. So it seemed like demons had different forms from each other. Looking at Valmeier's memory, the Wrath's subordinates also had various kinds of skin colors, although they were mainly red-skinned berserkers.
It was fascinating, this transformation. It cemented the fact that I was in a presence of a non-human entity.
Since I spent most of my life inside a solitary room and the hospital, I rarely interacted with different kinds of people. But now, I even met someone that wasn't human.
I couldn't help but smile at that. My drunk mind felt giddy with this new experience. Perhaps I shouldn't, since I was basically in an enemy's lair, but I couldn't help it.
They were not my enemy.
"What do you mean you're not important enough?" the man tapped on the backrest with a deep smile etched on his face. "You're the one who destroyed four of Wrath's hearts, aren't you?"
Ah...so he knew.
"The real 'hero' of the war who massacred Wrath's advance army, the High Priest of Judgment, Valmeier,"
Ha ha.
"What is the demon's slaughterer want from me, I wonder..."
'Ah, I'm screwed'.
"What is the demon's slaughterer want from me, I wonder..." he asked, with a glint in his silver eyes, swirling like liquid metal. It's mesmerizing.
They were all I could see, despite the blue skin or the dark horn or whatever else that defied my every conception about sentient beings. Those eyes felt strangely familiar and comforting...did they have some kind of hypnosis effect?
Oh, I shouldn't focus on that right now.
What did I want? Right, my inquiry through the spy was just about meeting him. There was no way I would tactlessly ask him for an extremely rare, miraculous drug in a letter—what if he ravaged the kingdom because he felt offended by my audacity?
I had wanted to meet him first, and asked for it carefully, gauging the Demon Lord's mood. Using whatever glib and acting and negotiating skills I build from pretending to be healthy enough and arguing to be let out of the hospital just for one day. Not to mention, I had to think of a reason as to why I knew about his possession of Amrita.
Yes, that was what I had planned.
But my intoxicated mind that almost burst out laughing at the 'demon slaughterer' was not that bright.
"I want your Amrita," I blurted out, forgoing glib and bypassing manner, only realizing my action after a silence that ensued after that. The Demon Lord stared at me with slightly widened eyes.
Ah, no, I needed to salvage this. What should I say to fix this? "...please?"
Damnit! That wasn't it!
And then there were the dreaded squinted eyes. "How do you know I have that?"
Ah, what was it that I had planned as an answer again? I tilted my head and closed my eyes, trying to recall my own scenario. "Ah," I clapped my hands after successfully remembering it, and answered him with foolish pride. "Because you are the Demon Lord of Greed!"
Of course I didn't know why he had Amrita in the first place. I wasn't even sure if he already had it now or would only acquire it in the future. Honestly, there was no guarantee that the author's unwritten prompts and ideas would be included in this world. My whole reasoning was coming from the fact that he was The Demon Lord of Greed, and his avarice would lead him into collecting all sorts of rarities in the world.
Fortunately, he did seem to have the Amrita already.
But right now, he was laughing. Not the loud, boisterous kind, but a silent laugh, with shaking shoulder and hand over his head. "Why do you sound like you just made a reason on the spot?"
Oh, perhaps because I did—no, I did not say this out loud. I think. I pressed my lips together to prevent more idiotic stuff from coming out of my drunk ass. Mouth. Darn it!
"And why do you inquire such precious thing?" his laughter died down after a while, and we were back to business, it seemed. "Does the forgotten hero still running errands for the kingdom even now?"
It was ironic, that the one who called Valmeier a 'hero' was the enemy instead.
The man's smile, which looked easy earlier, turned sharp, like he was mocking me. He was mocking Valmeier, actually, but I got pissed all the same. The good, kind, sacrificial priest like Valmeier would probably just smile it off.
But the drunk, brazen, tired-of-painful-life me wasn't that accepting.
"I'm using it for my dying ass, so what?" I snapped, not the smartest thing to say, honestly.
Me getting blamed for the frontier army's annihilation was something that was known widely. But me having my mana system blown up into a pathetic mess was known only to a handful of people; the frontier army's Captain, the Archpriest that fired me from the Order, and probably the king, if the Archpriest told him about it.
And me having to die because of that was only known to me.
So I was basically laying out in front of the Demon Lord that I was a sorry excuse of a dying, weakling ex-communicated priest. My drunk ass just throwing out my bargaining chip like it was nothing.
Again, do not attempt negotiation while you're drunk, kids.
I should've just stayed pretending that I was a damn freaking hero or whatever. Perhaps then I would appear more useful, and maybe demand a contract of some sort for the cure.
Now, I was at the mercy of a Demon Lord.
Of The Demon Lord who was suddenly frowning, silver eyes rippled in shock and...what? Anger? Was he angry that I raised my voice? Uh-oh...
"What do you mean you're dying?" the husky voice dipped low. "I don't think a clogged mana circuit is enough to kill people. Or are you the type that is unable to live without power?"
Hahaha, I was so pissed that I laughed. Oh, whatever. A dying man had no right to feel vexed, no time for anything than how to live past today, as I knew too much already. So I just replied dryly. "I'm the type that's unable to live without mana."
In the back of my mind, I knew I should be patient. I should hold back like usual, just listened to the one with the power to give you medicine and treatment. But perhaps, dying once already had exhausted my reserve. Even in the presence of this Demon Lord, in the middle of his territory, I couldn't care less.
I died once. If I couldn't live now, that was it. I'd just die again. It was a shame, but...at the very least, I didn't want to just lie down and accepted whatever like I did in the past.
But suddenly, the blue-skinned man was no longer sitting on the chair. In the blink of an eye—quite literally—he was already in front of me, tilting my chin. "What are you?" he inquired curiously. "What blood is in your vein?"
Well, now that the card was in the open, might as well just gamble it away. "Druid," I answered curtly. I had no idea how much of the druid part was in my genealogy, since Valmeier had no memory of his parents. But it was the human part that kept me alive. For a while anyway. If I was a pureblood druid, I'd die the moment my circuit exploded.
"Ha!" the hand retreated from my chin, and he sat himself on the table, so I could see his eyes even more clearly. They were shining, like a water mirror, like a reflection of the moon on a serene lake.
Again, they felt familiar.
"Is this luck?" he muttered, smiling to himself.
Wow, right in front of my aching muscle.
I get it though, after all I was an enemy. Or at least Valmeier was, if he was deemed dangerous enough to be labeled a 'slaughterer'. And having your dangerous enemy lose power and dying was surely a lucky thing.
Wait...wouldn't it mean there was no benefit for him for granting my request?
"Hmm..." the smile now was directed at me. "The fact that you feel the need to reach me means that this is your last resort, huh?"
Ugh.
"So your dear kingdom really abandon you? After all you've done?"
Hmm...I was having mixed feelings about this. It felt annoying that he kept rubbing all this salt around my wound, but then he also dressed it with words that more or less acknowledged my—I mean, Valmeier's—achievement.
I didn't know much about demons in this world, but his ability to confuse my state of mood and mind was truly devilish.
"Well, well, Mister Hero—"
"I'm not the hero,"
His smile deepened at that. "What should I call you, then?"
"...Val,"
"Very well, Val, you may call me Natha," he leaned forward, so our eyes were level, and spoke again. "You do realize that this thing in my possession was something so rare that no one else in this part of the world has it, don't you?"
What else could I do but nod?
"And you don't think I can give it to you for free, right?"
I tried to maintain a poker face, but I had no idea what face I was making. In the slightly intoxicated state that I was in, there was a probability that I made a drooling face too, from the way my heart beat loudly inside my painful chest, or the way my hands clenched the edge of the sofa.
"But...you're willing to?" I asked, perhaps with a slight tremble, I don't know anymore.
Oh, how deep that smile went. "That would depend on the price, wouldn't it?"
"I prepared to pay it with whatever price you want," I blurted impatiently, so that we could swiftly conclude this exchange.
That was how desperate I was for survival. To finally be able to live. I don't need much, I don't have to gain Valmeier's power. I just want to live like a normal person. Without pain in every waking moment, without being chained to a bed, without being stuffed daily with medicines.
Oh, what a stupid, stupid me.
"Anything?" the mirth in that voice was palpable. But I was too drunk, too impatient, and too caught up in the hope to process it in my head.
"Anything," I replied firmly.
What could he do to me anyway? There was no point in healing me just to torture me, right? Even if he wanted to do that, using a precious Amrita for that seemed to be such a waste, especially for the avaricious demon that he was supposed to be.
He might want to use me; using my insider information about the kingdom, or force me to use my power against the human. It didn't matter to me. I wasn't Valmeier, I didn't have his gentle heart or his kind soul. Rather, if he wanted me to fuck up the kingdom, I would. He could work me, he could turn me into his servant, I couldn't care less.
So I was pretty confident that I could pave through whatever price he demanded of me.
"Well then, Val," he smiled, tilting his head and grasping my chin. "Why don't you become my bride as the price?"
...huh?
a small mistake could lead to a leap of fate
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GOT IT